


Silver

by MidnightMew



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Victor's hair, Young Victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightMew/pseuds/MidnightMew
Summary: A series of drabbles about young Victor and the attitudes towards his hair and style.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought I would contribute something to my latest fandom- my personal ideas about why Victor cut his hair explored through a series of drabbles/ short oneshots. Also I don't know much about Russia's anti LGBT propaganda laws so please correct me if I've understood it wrong :3

Note- I really don't like google translate and I don't know any Russian so when Yakov and Viktor are speaking to each other please just assume it's Russian- it's easier for us all this way :)

'Viktor,' Viktor swirled around to face the source of the voice. 'Viktor what have I told you about that hair of yours.' It was Yakov. What's wrong with my hair. He thought to himself with a sigh, so what if it's long. I don't get why he has to make such a big deal out of it. 'Viktor?' Yakov asked again, his tone becoming steadily angrier. 'Viktor I told you to cut it.'

'I don't want to cut it.' Viktor protested defiantly. 'Why do I need to cut it. It's fine like this!' His hair was his pride and joy, cutting it would be like taking something away from himself.

'I've told you once, and I've told you a million times Viktor. You cannot keep your hair long, especially with those horribly androgynous outfits you insist on wearing for your performances.'

'But who cares!' He shot back, 'The audience likes it, so as long as I can keep surprising them.'

'But Viktor,' he sighed, sounding a little more sympathetic now, 'It's not always going to be like that. As you get older they'll become less and less open to you. Many people are already talking about your supposed preferences in less than kind ways behind your back.'

 _Supposed preferences,_ he thought bitterly. Yakov had instructed him to conceal his sexuality. To act like a flirty playboy. Well he could do the second part but he sure didn't like the first. _To be honest, I'm not even sure about my sexuality myself. But I might have a better idea had I been allowed to find out for myself and experiment rather than have it forced upon me but I have to be this way or at least act like I am if I'm not._

'Have it cut by your next competition,' Yakov yelled after him as he left, 'You do want to surprise the audience don't you?' He said with a smirk that made Viktor's insides twist as he ran out the door of the ice rink.

\--

Viktor yawned as he walked down the street on his way home. He had been ice skating before school this morning, and had then had double p.e. when he got there. He had about half an hour to get home and relax before he had to go back to the rink. His next competition was in a week, and though he had perfected both his short and free programmes, he still practiced every day to make sure they were still up to standard.

He thought about what Yakov had said to him earlier that week about his hair, his next competition was fast approaching but he still kept it long, kept back from his face in a high ponytail. _What will be say if I don't cut it, He thought to himself, Sure he might be mad but we won't quit as my coach will he? He dismissed those fears, there's no way he'll quit as my coach. He values me far too much to quit over something as trivial as my hair._

But no matter how hard he tried to put them out of his mind, the thoughts kept returning. What it Yakov did quit as his coach? What if he couldn't get another coach because they didn't approve of his clothing and hair, or his habit of disobeying orders. _What if I can't go on to the ice again because of this? What if I can't skate for an audience again because I don't have a coach?_ The thoughts would not leave him. He was scared, he wanted to cut his hair now but he wasn't sure he could do it. Your father would be pleased. He thought, smiling grimly at the idea.

His father had long ago abandoned him and his mum, and when Viktor had taken up figure skating and ballet had refused to talk to him for a month afterwards. When he begrudgingly accepted that Viktor was passionate on doing figure skating whether he wanted him to or not, he was shocked to find his son growing his hair out. That too had annoyed his father, he had scolded Viktor, pressured him to cut it, and stopped speaking to him when he refused. _Maybe if I cut it he might speak to me again? It might be nice to actually know my father as a person rather than the man who abandoned me and disapproved of my hobbies_.

His fathers approval was the final confirmation he needed. He grabbed the scissors off his desk and went into the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He wasn't thinking straight. He didn't know what he was doing or why we was doing it. _But I don't care_.

He took his hair out of the bobble and let it hand loosely around his shoulders, it reached down his back almost to his waist. He raised the scissors, to just below his ears, and slowly cut.

Snip.

He had done it. He had made the first cut. He felt his eyes full with tears as the long strands of hair fell to the floor of the bathroom. _What am I doing?_ He thought in a sudden moment of clarity, but that vanished as he made another cut, and another and another, as he saw the hair falling around him. He couldn't bear it, he wanted to stop. But at the same time he couldn't. Couldn't take the blades away from his long silvery locks.

He cut and cut, so that his hair fell to just below his ears, and then he looked at his face properly. _It didn't look bad as such, but it doesn't look like me._

He let out a noisy sob, collapsing to the bathroom floor, clutching at the strands of hair he had left on his head. He cried and cried, his throat raw, his eyes red.

'Viktor?' He heard a voice from downstairs, his mum must've heard him crying. 'Viktor are you okay?' He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, but he couldn't say anything. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 'Viktor open up!' His mum yelled, knocking on the bathroom door. 'Are you okay? Please, just say something!'

He said nothing, still unable to. But instead crawled over to the door and twisted the lock with a click. His mum stood there in shock, gazing at Viktor's hair and the floor all around him.

'V-Viktor,' she stuttered out. 'Oh Viktor, whatever made you do this.'

He collapsed into her arms, his sobs shaking his whole body. He might've been sixteen and way to old for such a thing under normal circumstances, but everyone needed a hug sometimes he supposed.

'Viktor?' His mum asked him again. 'Are you okay sweetie?'

'Y-Yakov,' he stuttered out, trying to find the words to describe why he had done what he had. 'Yakov said he wouldn't be coaching me anymore. He said,' he took a deep breath through the tears, 'he said that unless I cut my hair and stopped wearing my more androgynous performance outfits that he would quit.'

'You didn't have to do that Viktor,' his mum said to him, stroking circles on his back. 'If you'd spoken to me I would've told you that you didn't need to do that. We can get you a new coach.'

'But everyone makes fun of it at school anyway.' He said, tears trickling down his cheeks, 'It's only a matter of time until figure skaters and fans started to make fun of it too, when they notice that my costumes kept getting more and more feminine, that I never cut my hair.'

'But Viktor,' she protested, 'you didn't have to do that. You should never let people influence what you do. Their your decisions, not theirs.'

'But I'm not strong enough,' he said, so quietly he wasn't even sure that she has heard it, and fell back into her arms, tears running down his face.

\--

Tears were running down his face now as he recited the story to Yuuri, who put his arm around Viktor and did his best to comfort the older man.

'Sorry,' he mumbled, 'sorry for crying, I know this must be awkward for you. All you asked is why I cut my hair, and you get this long sob story.'

'Don't apologise Viktor.' Yuuri said, stroking his back, 'I guess I'm lucky that my family accepted me like they did. I can't even imagine what that must've been like for you, living in such a homophobic country too.'

'Well let's just say I'm glad I'm here.' He sighed, 'I might not be able to speak my home language here but at least I don't have to worry about being done for 'promoting lgbt propaganda' or some crap like that just because I want to kiss my boyfriend in a competition that happens to be airing on tv.'

'They can really do that?' Yuuri asked in disbelief, his eyes widening.

'I'm not sure how strict they are about it,' he added, 'but theoretically speaking what happened at the cup of China would be against the law back home. You heard the way they spoke about us when we went there.'

'I guess,' Yuuri said, 'but I think I was busy focusing on my skating to pay attention to the reporters!' He laughed. A sweet, cheerful sound that- even if only for a moment- made all of Viktor's worries disappear.

'We can move right?' He asked Yuuri, suddenly. 'To America, or prehaps Britain, somewhere where we can get married and accepted by everyone.'

'I would like that,' Yuuri said with a smile. 'I've always wanted to explore the world, even more with someone amazing with you by my side.' He grinned and Viktor could practically feel his heart melt in his chest.

\--

Two years later and they're happily married and living in a flat in London. Sat at the table, eating dinner, Yuuri brought up the topic of Viktor's hair again.

'Are you growing your hair out?' He asked Viktor, noticing that his hair seemed to be longer than he normally left it before a trim.

'Yeah, I thought I would.' He said with a smile, 'Yakov can't tell me what to do with my life anymore.'

'You can do whatever you want to do Viktor. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise,' Yuuri said with a kiss to his forehead and Viktor relaxed into the hug, feeling like he was home. This was where he belonged.

A/N if you liked it, please give me some constructive criticism :)

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism welcomed and kudos are much appreciated- it only takes a second to click that button and make my day!  
> Mew xx


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